


Night Watch

by robolife



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Intricate Rituals, M/M, Slow Burn, Started as a self indulgent one shot, but it's also my fic, daryl's mean and that's probably my personal problem, it was ambiguous to fit with canon but now its derailed, like i put it in a pressure cooker for a week, now here we are, spoilers through ep 12, very slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robolife/pseuds/robolife
Summary: Setting up a watch rotation was a smart move. None of them realized it was also the perfect way to have deep one on one talks.Basically I use night watches to make these dads go through character development and bonding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you really like Daryl as a character you might not want to read this. I have immense respect for the player for making such a complex character but I also just don't like Daryl as a person, he rubs me the wrong way. Feel free to hmu if you want my full, unnecessary thoughts on the matter. I made this at first as a comm but it ballooned because God cursed me for my hubris. It will be Glen/Henry eventually but I played myself and now I have to lay so much groundwork that it became a slow burn. Anyways, enjoy I guess.

Henry wasn’t really sure what woke him up that night. Maybe it was residual stress from the day, maybe it was related to how he seemed to be so much more alert to his surroundings, maybe it was no reason at all. No matter what it was, the result was the same; he woke up, body pressed up against the wall of the car, and noticed a distinct lack of the full force of dadly snoring. When he’d sat up to see what had happened, he realized they were one Glen-sized body short of the full set. 

When he eased his way as quietly as he could out into the night he had to resist the urge to go right back in when a cold breeze made a shiver run down his spine. Despite that initial shock, though, the night was surprisingly pleasant. The moon was full and the stars stretched out for miles, and he could hear the night sounds of familiar and alien animals alike. He was grateful for the brightness of the moon as his eyes swept through the vicinity and landed on the hunched figure of their wayward bard-dad. As Henry approached he cleared his throat, not wanting to scare the man, but he remained silent beyond that as he sat down next to him on the log he was sitting on. 

They’d found a good place just off the road to spend the night, easily protected and hard to ambush. It was on the edge of a cliffside, and that’s where Glen was sitting, staring out over it at the silent valley beneath them. They sat like that for a while, how long he couldn’t say, before Glen finally broke the silence,

“I figured someone could keep watch, you know, since Sern isn’t around anymore,” he hunched over more as he said it, as if worried Henry wouldn’t accept the… the what? Justification? Excuse? Explanation? He didn’t know, but it seemed like Glen was defending himself against an accusation that wasn’t there.

He could understand the impulse.

So he leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, propping his head up, and hummed an approval. It made sense, after all… but…

“That’s not really the reason you’re out here though, is it?”

He’d tried to say it gently, as an invitation, but he still saw Glen flinch out of the corner of his eye, and saw guilt painting his face when he turned his head. He opened his mouth to backtrack, to reassure, to try and diffuse whatever bomb looked to implode the poor man when Glen spoke again, gaze stubbornly fixed to the valley.

“I… “ Henry heard the gentle squeak of leather as he gripped his jacket, “No, it… it wasn’t,” he was silent for another minute before continuing, “I couldn’t sleep anyway, and I just… needed to get out of there, for a bit. Clear my head, you know?”

Henry hummed again, knowing the feeling of being suffocated by the presence of too many other people. He leaned back, bark digging into his palms as he scuffed his burks’ on the dirt. It still felt like Glen was… holding back something, and his name wouldn’t be Henry Oak if he didn’t help a friend in emotional distress.

“You’re having trouble sleeping?”

Glen shrugged, giving a dry laugh and scratching the back of his neck, a thin mask of nonchalance, 

“Ah, you know how it is, out on the open road, you never know what’s gonna happen next, sometimes it’s just…. Impossible to fall asleep.”

“And this has nothing to do with seeing your son vanish into thin air? Or the fact that we just decapitated Terry Sr. in front of Terry Jr.?”

The silence that followed wasn’t tense _per se_ but it wasn’t very comfortable, either. It was broken when Glen let out a loud sigh, running a hand through his hair before burying his head in his arms.

“Maybe,” His voice was muffled by his jacket, ”I don’t know, it- it’s all muddled together, man, everything is mixed up and none of it is good and not even _I_ can keep on denying it like this, it’s… overwhelming. It’s too much and there’s no escaping it and I just… God I wish I could get high right now.”

His voice had escalated as he spoke, a desperate tinge to it that felt like a glass cracked all over that was one touch away from shattering. Henry had been expecting something like this, sure, but not in this way. Not in the quiet night under the moon, not in a way that meant no one would have known if he hadn’t woken up. 

He reached over to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, not sure exactly what to do. He knew how to comfort a friend well enough, but the problem was he wasn’t sure where he and Glen stood in that respect. Henry was a firm believer in forgiving and forgetting, but that didn’t change the subtle shift in their group dynamics after what had happened with Nick. He didn’t know if Glen would even listen to anything he tried to say. 

Still, he’d do his best,

“That’s...maybe not the best solution to it, but I can understand where it’s coming from,” He trailed off, not sure how to continue. Luckily Glen seemed to be willing to talk, since he shook his head and responded,

“No, man, no it ...You...I….” Henry saw his fingers clench again, his shoulders tensing in sink as he let out a shaky breath, “He was right,” it came out broken and wobbling, like a dying bird, “At least you… you seem like a good dad, just, I don’t know, just a little too lenient. I’m… he was right, whoever that Ravenloft, purple eyes guy is, he was right about me. I _don’t_ have a life, I’ve fucked up in every possible way, I,” He took a heaving breath, plowing through like his words were a runaway train, “I’m a horrible person, and an even worse dad.”

The words seemed to hurt Glen to say just as much as it hurt Henry to hear. Sure, they had their differences, they’d had their fights, their disagreements, their fallouts. But that didn’t change how at ease Nick seemed to be with him, how open he was. Hell, out of the four of them, Nick was the only one who seemed to _actually_ want to be with his father. That said something about Glen, at least. 

He didn’t get to try and say anything, though, before Glen kept going, 

“He’s probably better off with that…purple robed guy, anyway.”

That finally spurred Henry into action.

“Hey!” He grabbed Glen by the shoulder and pulled him up, forcing the man to make eye contact, “Don’t say that. Sure, I may have a few, uh, complaints about your parenting style, but Nick only ever seemed to want to stay with you! And the first step to becoming a better person is recognizing your failings, which, I’ll admit, you have a lot, but they don’t define you! Don’t just run away from this, don’t go hide in a hole and feel sorry for yourself- that won’t help you and it certainly won’t help Nick,” He was on a roll now, and from the way 

his voice shook he knew he wasn’t only talking about Glen and Nick. From the sad understanding in Glen’s eyes, it seemed he was realizing that too.

“I know that we’re not… really a team, not how Darryl seems to think. We’re just four people, who sort of know each other, trying to find our kids. But, doggonit man, that’s better than going it alone! So… so don’t give up, not yet. If you give up on one kid, you give up on them all, and… I haven’t given up on you yet, so…” He lost his train of thought, caught up in the emotions roiling through him. Glen seemed to understand at least, relaxing a little bit, mouth hinting at the smile he usually sported. Henry hadn’t realized he’d missed it. 

Something seemed to...shift, between them, in that moment. It was small, but it also felt significant. Like they’d actually started to get an understanding of each other, a true understanding. Glen turned back to look out at the valley, scooting closer on the log to bump Henry with his shoulder,

“Wanna exchange notes, then?”

“How do you mean?”

“Dad notes, you know? You can give me tips on...well, everything I guess, and I can give you tips on how to have casual conversations with your kids,” he said it casually, but then he whipped his head around, face full of regret, “I- I don’t mean. I don’t mean you can’t, I just, it was the only thing you mentioned positively, and-”

Henry stopped him with a hand on his shoulder again, and this time pulled him into a hug. He ignored how Glen tensed before curling his hands into Henry’s shirt.

“Yea, that sounds like a good idea.”

They spent the rest of the night talking about their kids; fun, happy stories as the starkness of the situation stopped pressing down on them so harshly. By the time the others were awake the two of them were sat right next to each other, Henry’s arm slung over Glen’s shoulder as they laughed quietly at a story that really wasn’t that funny. 

Glen hung back to his usual distance as they joined the others to “reconfirm the game plan” as Darryl put it, but Henry liked to think they’d made some real progress. Darryl came over to him, a questioning look on his face, but before either of them said anything, Ron spoke,

“Were you guys having a dad huddle without us?”

“Yea, Ron, dad huddle, but only if you wanted to keep watch,” Glen answered, humor coloring his voice. And then the day was truly started as Darryl demanded why they hadn’t made some sort of rotation for it instead as Glen disappeared to fill up the tank, leaving Henry to go back to mediating. 

It wasn’t that bad, all things considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to bug me my twit is /lisstles (feel free to bug me)


	2. Chapter 2

It was the middle of the night again. At least, this time Henry knew why he was awake. They'd taken to keeping watch now, since it was something that was needed, and they couldn't exactly force Glen to sleep through the night. So here they were again, he and Glen taking first watch, still a few hours left before Darryl and Ron took over. 

That's what they were dealing with when Henry started to, in a sense, lose it. It wasn't really anything, it was just the combination of a lot of little things. It was the constant stress, the uncertainty, the lack of anything familiar or comforting. It had been weeks they'd been here, close to two months even, and they were all tired and missing home. A home that didn't really have time to miss them yet- it hadn't even been a day back home yet. He'd spoken to his wife earlier- she was working on opening a portal on her end, but it had only been an hour since she started. It just... it had just hit him; their whole situation, their reality, however fantastical. 

All that to say he was currently hyperventilating where they sat on a beach, off the side of the coastal road as Glen rubbed circles on his back and murmured counts for breathing. He was honestly surprised he didn't pass out, or wake the others up- he didn't have a good gauge of how loud he was, what with the panic rocketing the blood through his veins. They'd just been discussing things, just talking about what was happening, what they had to do, and then he was thinking, and thinking, and thinking, and he couldn't stop.

He couldn't stop and his thoughts just kept rushing through him and god he couldn't do this, he couldn't keep going, he missed his boys, he missed his wife, he missed his home, he was never going to escape-

Henry was snapped back to reality when Glen pulled him into a hug, letting him clench his jacket as he spoke quietly, barely louder than Henry's halting breathes,

"It's okay, it's okay, just breathe with me bud, in and out, in and out," he continued, words even and low, a continuous rhythm that Henry clung to. 

Eventually he managed to get his breathing under control, not thinking too hard about the growing wet spot on Glen's t-shirt because that would lead to more crying. The steady stream of reassurances continued even as Henry finally calmed down, a new exhaustion taking over him. After his heartbeat had been normal for a few minutes Glen fell quiet, and Henry realized his hands had gone from Glen's shoulders to his waist at some point, looped loosely around as his shoulders slumped against the other man, face shoved into the junction of his neck and shoulder. If he weren't so emotionally drained he'd be embarrassed. As it was he was just thankful Glen was taking it all in stride.

He was also impressed, if he was being honest- Glen had never struck him as the type of guy to know what to do in this situation. If he thought about it though, it made sense- can't be much of a difference between a panic attack and a bad trip. 

Finally he took a fortifying breath, clearing his throat as he pulled away and wiping at his eyes, turning to look at the simmering fire. 

For the first time in what felt like forever but was probably no longer than 20 minutes he could hear the sound of the waves. Glen didn't say anything, but kept a hand at the small of his back. Henry was scared to admit how reassuring it was. He clasped his hands together in front of him, elbows leaning on his knees, eyes scanning the sand. 

"Uh," he tried to say something, throat catching on itself and forcing him to clear it again before trying again, "Th-thanks there, uh, thanks, Glen, I..." he trailed off, refusing to look over, hands clenched, "I don't...I couldn't..." What was he even supposed to say here? He felt like if he spent any more thought on it he would end up back in that downward spiral. 

Glen saved him from figuring anything out, though, reaching over and putting his hand over Henry's, finally getting him to look back up,

"Hey, don't worry about it- there's no one out there that's unbreakable."

Henry was surprised at how much sense it made for being so vague. He gave a wobbly smile, feeling some tension bleed from his shoulders. There were a thousand things running through his mind that he almost wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to go through with any of them.

Glen leaned over and lightly bumped their shoulders together, giving him an easy smile, 

"You wanna talk about any of it?" It was an offer, gentle and understanding. Too bad Henry could barely put any of it into words. He leaned over a little bit into the contact, taking a moment to collect himself, 

"I... I just, miss them, you know? My boys, my two beautiful boys, my wife, my home- our home, a sky I recognize," He wiped at his face again as Glen's arm wrapped comfortingly around his shoulders, "I talked to her earlier, you know, to get an update," He took a steadying breath, "She's my best friend, my rock- which is very important for a geologist," he surprised a laugh out of Glen with that one, the rumble travelling through the both of them, "And it hurts, being away from her like this, not being able to talk every night. I guess I'm just lonely?" He wasn't sure if he was asking Glen or himself, "I mean- we're all, friends by now, maybe? We're closer, but it's not easy to just... be physically affectionate. I miss my family, and I miss hugging my boys in the morning, kissing my wife on the cheek before work, you know?" He fell silent, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers. Glen gave a hum of response that hinted at only a partial understanding. 

"Well," He said, holding Henry just slightly closer, "Just let me know if you ever need a hug or a kiss," He gave a playful wink at that end bit as Henry chuckled before stifling a yawn. 

"Don't blame me when I take you up on that, sir," he let his eyes close, "You know I will."

He felt a hand start to comb through his hair, "Wouldn't dream of it." It was said with the feeling of meaning more than it was, but Henry was already drifting off before he could think about it. 

When he woke up the next morning he was in the car, blanket thrown over him, the other four already awake and cobbling a breakfast together. He almost chocked up the events of last night to a dream, but when he stepped out and greeted everyone Glen took a moment to give him a one-armed hug and plop a kiss on top of his head. It was done in passing, with such a natural air of casualness that it took him a second to realize it wasn't necessarily part of the routine. He smiled to himself, taking a minute to focus on everything around him before going to help Peyton with figuring out what mushrooms were edible, chest a little lighter than the night before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some drama

It wasn't as weird of a transition as he'd thought it would be- heck, it was barely a transition at all. No one asked why Glen was suddenly more free with physical affection and assurances, and Glen didn't seem to have any qualms about doling it out to whoever needed it. 

Well- except Daryl, the two still had enough unease between them to make things awkward anytime Glen tried. 

Other than that, though, Henry was surprised at the effect it seemed to have on all of them. Ron seemed to be astonished anytime he received so much as a pat on the back, and Henry had to admit he'd given him a hug or two just to see his reaction. Ron had responded in kind, taking cues at what was permissible and was even starting to initiate the odd shoulder bump- it was progress. Even Daryl, though he still seemed to be on guard with Glen, was seeing more affection. It wasn't much, since he was already a tactile guy to begin with. But he seemed happier, now that Henry and Ron were initiating more contact themselves.

What really made him smile about it all was that, other than Glen, no one else knew why they'd all gotten more open, and Henry appreciated that. He was an open book, sure, and he'd answer if asked, but it was nice to not have to... repeat the breakdown he'd had. It was a little demonstration of a considerate side to Glen that he hadn't really thought was there, in all honesty. 

He had started to notice some... interesting trends, however, as they all developed these new routines. First thing he noticed was that Glen, after that first day, just didn't bother changing how he greeted him in the morning. Everyday, an arm around his shoulders, a warm squeeze, and a kiss on the top of his head, a "good morning", and that was that. 

The second thing he noticed was that Daryl would almost always follow up with a hug of his own, both arms, full bear, whenever he saw Glen had given him one. He didn't notice it at first, not until Ron mentioned it one night when they shared a watch- the only time they did, since the following watch with Glen and Daryl had resulted in the bother of them looking ready to drop dead. He still didn't know what happened. 

Ron had mentioned it, though, a few hours in when they were trying to stay awake for the last bit of their watch. He'd thrown a stick into the fire and sighed, leaning against him slightly,

"Are you a betting man, Henry?"

"Uh, well, in a friendly way, sure! Why do you ask?" He wasn't sure, but something about gambling mixed with Ron Stampler just screamed bad idea. Ron didn't notice his hesitance, understandably.

"Oh, well, I just wanted to see how long you thought Daryl would keep up his pissing contest before Glen noticed?" He said it with such a casual tone that it took Henry a second before he really processed what it was he actually said.

"His, uh, his what?"

Ron gave a shrug, "You know, how everytime Glen does something helpful Daryl practically falls over himself to outdo him?"

Henry didn't know how to respond- there had to be a mistake somewhere along the way, he would have noticed, surely?

He brushed it off, moving the conversation away from whatever it was Ron was on about, but it stuck in his head no matter how many times he tried to shake it out. And then he just... kept noticing. Glen would give him a hug, and not two minutes later he'd find Daryl pulling him into a bigger one. Glen would offer to get firewood, Daryl would clear the space, line it with stones, set up the firewood and kindling, and then light it. Glen would help Ron with a misconception, Daryl would spend the next day hanging off Ron's every word. And henry just... couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand what Daryl was trying to prove, or who he was trying to prove it to. 

And Ron kept giving him knowing looks, whenever he saw Henry noticing, as if he understood it. Half of Henry wanted to ask, the other half wanted to keep trying to deny anything was weird about it. Maybe Daryl was just competitive. Maybe he was still suspicious of Glen, and was unconsciously mirroring what he did. Whatever it was, now that it was pointed out to him, he couldn't stop noticing. 

He tried not to let it get to him.

There was another thing he noticed, however, probably because he was observing them so closely, but it wasn't related to what Ron had mentioned. 

Glen only ever kissed him.

Of course- it wasn't anything serious. Never on the lips, heck, never even on the cheek. Just one on top of his head every morning, and the occasional press to his forehead, whenever he really needed it. But as far as he could tell, Glen never did that for the others, not even Peyton. He didn't know what to make of it. Was it because Henry had mentioned kisses that night? Was it something Glen wasn't actually that comfortable with? Or maybe he'd tried something similar with Ron, but had been received negatively? Now that he'd noticed, it was like he couldn't focus until he figured it out. The possibilities swam through his head, question after question after question with no answer in sight. For someone who considered himself pretty wise, he was embarrassingly clueless with whatever it was that was shifting between the group of them. 

He could just ask. It wouldn't be that hard, especially if it really was something Glen was uncomfortable with. He should be able to do that. 

So he decided he would give it a shot when they shared a watch- it seemed like the only time to have a private conversation anymore. Or maybe it just felt safer, when it was night. Everytime he tried he couldn't seem to get the words out. He'd chicken out, or get distracted, or convince himself there wasn't a good time to pose the question. He was just scared, though, and he knew it. 

And then things came to a head when they were about to head into the city with The Library, the same city with Grant in it. They were right at the end of their time with the books, and they weren't closer to figuring out how to... not kill Daryl's son. So they were brainstorming, the four of them, about what to do. Then it happened.

"Well, as long as we don't see Grant, then we're good, so-" Glen had been saying, explaining why they should just go into the city blindfolded, before Daryl cut him off,

"No."

"I'm just saying, I mean, if you think about how the deal was worded-"

"No. Fuck that."

"Woah, Daryl, no need for the animosity," Henry had tried at the same time Ron had interjected with, "Who doesn't love a good loophole?"

Apparently neither of those things were the right things to say.

"No, no, we are not doing that, and I'll tell you why. Because Glen here might be fine taking the chance that the words were literal, but I'm not," Daryl had escalated to a shout, glaring at Glen, "I'm not going to bet the life of my SON on fucking wordplay. Especially not when Glen was the one to suggest it."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Glen had prickled up, almost like a cat, anger and offense starting to simmer in his eyes. It didn't phase Daryl, standing firmly across the fire from their bard. 

"It means," he seethed, "That I don't trust you to care about my son, when it doesn't even seem like you care about your own."

The silence that followed it felt like a crack of thunder. Henry and Ron shared a nervous glance before looking back to the other two, Daryl with his mouth set in a firm, stubborn frown, Glen with shock written across his face. The only movement and sound came from the fire they sat around for another moment, before Glen stood up. Henry and Ron followed suit, ready to stop a fight should it come to that. 

But it didn't. 

Instead Glen just turned around to grab his guitar, staring vacantly at the scenery around them, "Peyton," his voice was too dead to mean anything good, "You and me will take the first watch."

And then they couldn't get anything else out of him. He just sat down at the edge of where the light hit, facing away from them, ignoring anything they said. Daryl stormed off into the van after that, too angry to try and talk anymore. And so Henry and Ron really didn't have any other option than to follow suit. They agreed in hushed voices to take second watch together, and then Henry sent a pleading look over to Peyton. He wasn't sure what he was trying to ask, but regardless the boy nodded to him. 

The watch rotation went quietly, mumbles too low to be made into any sort of words. And then morning came.

He and Ron were already scrounging more breakfast together. They'd talked about what to do during their watch, how to try and mediate while also find a way to not get anyone killed. They had to return the books today no matter what, and they had to try and avoid Grant, wherever he may be.

Then Daryl came out of the van, yawning, and looking around. And looking around some more. He yanked the back door to the car open, obviously agitated, before he turned to them,

"Where are they?"

"Where are what, Daryl?"

"The- the books, the library books, who took them out," He looked around their make-shift camp site, "And where are the other two?"

Henry and Ron shared a look, neither of them understanding, "We didn't take the books out," Ron inched closer to see inside the car, "And you're the first person to wake up this morning..." He trailed off as he looked inside the van, "Or at least...that's what we thought."

At that Henry joined them by the car, looking in, a sinking feeling in his gut taking hold.

Glen was gone.

Peyton was gone.

The books were gone.

Shit. 

They were panicking, the three of them, all talking at once, no one listening to anyone else, when they heard the nasally clearing of a small throat. In unison they turned toward the road where they saw Peyton standing there, sheepish, thankfully in one piece, and alone.

"We returned the books," he took his pack off his back and opened it, "And found some that would help you with your cursed deal," he pulled out two worn, leather bound books, "I also, uh, know where your son is."

He didn't know what to say. None of them did.

Ron was finally the one to break the silence,

"Where's Glen?"

"He left," Peyton looked down at the ground, looking like the small, sad child he was, "Told me to tell you he'll see you at Ravenloft."

What.

What the fuck?

"Are you kidding me?" Ron asked, "You mean he left me with these two nerds?"


End file.
